


Truth Will Out

by tryslora



Series: And Omega Makes Family [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, M/M, Mpreg, Taken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Jackson moves in, the pack still needs to be told the truth about what’s going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth Will Out

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for Prompt #11 - Taken at fullmoon_ficlet on Livejournal. This prompt screamed to be the one where Derek and Jackson tell the pack (using “taken” in the dating sense). As always, I do not own the characters or world of Teen Wolf, but I love to write about them.

Jackson is in the bedroom when the first of the pack arrive.

 _The_ bedroom. 

 _Derek’s_ room.

 _Their_ room.

His things are littered around the space, mingling with Derek’s clothing and possessions. Their _scents_ mingle here, invading his senses. He can’t figure out how the pack won’t know immediately that everything has changed. He can’t figure out how they don’t already know.

When the front door slams, he listens, waiting for someone to respond to his presence. But all he hears is Scott murmuring with Allison, and Lydia asking Derek about alternatives to pizza for dinner.

Jackson tunes them out, searching through his things for a shirt. He needs to put things away, but for some reason it is comforting to have them out. Strewn about as they are, he can smell himself in this space, rather than the cloying scent of too much Derek.

He yanks the shirt over his head and looks in the mirror, turning sideways. For all that Derek keeps touching his belly, Jackson can’t see anything yet. There is no evidence of what has gone between them, except in the way Derek treats him.

To anyone who is watching, the evidence has piled up in damning ways, showing that Jackson’s status has changed.

The door slams again and Jackson flinches at the sound of Stiles calling out. _Damn it_. He can’t let this argument start again. He stalks out to meet the pack.

“No, seriously, just listen to me, Derek.” Stiles sits on the countertop near where Derek fiddles with the coffee maker. “She is _hot_ for you. So all we need to do is send you in. You do that thing where you actually smile—I’ve seen it, remember? You can turn on the charm when you need to. Fake it a little bit for her, maybe take her out, and when she’s drugged on alpha kisses, she’ll spill everything.”

Jackson’s jaw goes tight, his body tense. He stops in the doorway; Derek’s brow furrows as he looks up and he growls slightly, but Jackson snarls an answer, stalking closer.

“Stiles, get down,” Derek orders.

“Derek!” Stiles spreads his hands in protest. “It’s a good plan. No, it’s a _great_ plan. Just flash that chest of yours once and she’ll be putty in your—”

“It’s not going to happen.” Jackson grits the words out between his teeth, wedging himself into the space left between Derek and Stiles. “Just shut up, Stiles. We need information, that’s fine, but that’s not how we’re going to get it. If you’re that into seducing her, do it yourself.”

“Dude!” Stiles gestures from himself to Derek and back again. “There is absolutely no comparison here. It has to be someone like Derek. Or you.”

Jackson doesn’t expect the sudden deep growl behind him, or the way Stiles falls silent, eyes round and wide.

“Right.” Stiles slips off the counter and edges away. “No seduction. Fine.”

Something shivers through Jackson as the growl fades slowly. He feels heat rising, and his eyes close as he leans forward on the edge of the countertop. Fuck this. It’s how he reacts when Derek gets possessive, his knees going to jelly and his gut churning with hunger. He feels out of control, frustrated with his own body betraying him.

Derek presses in close behind him. No quiet, subtle touch this time; he blankets Jackson’s body with his own, hands sliding down Jackson’s arms until they rest on his hands, holding him in place. A mouth falls to Jackson’s shoulder, lips first, then teeth until Jackson can’t help but whine.

A glass shatters, and they remember that they have company.

“Dude… what?”

Jackson can’t remember seeing Stiles without words before. It would be amusing if it didn’t feel like his body was on fire with hunger. Bad timing. Very, very bad timing.

He can’t let them see him like this. He can’t let them see him _weak_. Needy. So he turns quickly and pushes Derek back, scowling at the members of the pack who are there. He takes in their expressions: Stiles’s mouth slightly open, Scott’s bemused expression. Allison smiles, seemingly pleased. Lydia’s expression is a blank mask.

There should be words now, but Jackson can’t find them. His heart is racing, and he sees Scott’s head cock, listening, so he growls angrily instead. “Derek won’t be seducing _anyone_.” Jackson bares his teeth, claws peeking out at the end of his fingertips. “He’s mine.”

The hand on his shoulder steadies him. Calms him as he leans back into the touch. He turns, cheek to fingers, and closes his eyes.

“Jackson lives here now.” Derek speaks plainly, his tone not inviting argument. “As my mate.”

“Dude, how did that even _happen_?”

Derek’s touch keeps Jackson from lashing out at Stiles. “How doesn’t matter, not yet.”

“Not _yet_?” Stiles interrupts. “You mean there’s more to this story?”

“I’m pregnant.” Jackson drops the words like a wall between himself and the rest of the pack. Little defensive bombs, half snarled in frustration and anger. “With Derek’s kid, yes. So anything you care to dream up involving him and other women can just stop. And you… don’t you even think about sending him in somewhere he’ll get killed. He’s our alpha, but he’s not invulnerable.”

Dead silence in the wake of his outburst. Derek looks as if he’s trying not to smile. “What?” asks Jackson.

“You’re possessive.”

“Fuck you.” Jackson pushes past him, heading back to the bedroom. The sound of the door slamming is a satisfying noise. Once he is closed in the room he is surrounded by his own scent again, mixed with Derek in a way that he is coming to think of as familiar. It is the only thing he has to hold on to with his life turned upside down.

He can still hear Stiles’s voice clearly. “Was that hormones?”

“That was Jackson.” There is something in Derek’s tone that Jackson can’t identify. Something low and soft, maybe fond. It lingers in the air until Jackson’s name fades, then Derek is all business again as the last of the pack arrives, and they return to discussing the problem at hand.

Jackson only listens with half an ear. He doesn’t care what they decide, as long as they recognize that Derek belongs to Jackson. That is the one thing he is sure of in this situation; Derek is _his_.


End file.
